Connotations
by apathetical
Summary: Ever so often, predicted goodbye can dissolve in the blink of an eye, and gift a 'hello' that transcends everything we've ever known. IchiRuki (Non-compliant to 686.)


❝ _With our eyes wide open –_

It happens swiftly; the adrenaline in his veins pouring into the final exertion of his sword, inches away from the face of the man with the most maddening objective of them all- to rewrite the laws of the universe and destroying everything opposing such a path. It was momentary; heartbeat racing against the speed of time as the sharp-edged verge swung not twice or thrice, but _once_ , slicing clean through the shadow mass.

Beads of perspiration invaded his lids as they squeezed tightly shut— the firm image of the Yhwach firmly burned into the back of his mind. The earthen ground rumbled under his knees before finally, _finally_ stilling—and the emblematic notion of peace was what allowed Ichigo's mind to rest, albeit only briefly.

 _–_ _We'll fight until we're broken._ ❞

Ichigo's limbs finally slackened, and Zangetsu fell to the ground.

❝ _We rise and fall._ ❞

* * *

When awakened, there is chaos. Frantic shouts and the shuffling of feet assault his eardrums, and blindly, the hero shifts to stand.

Repudiated.

Slender digits curl into the ridges of his shoulders and forces them down, and Ichigo finds himself into a vaguely familiar position as the back of his head is cushioned by the dampened cloth of a hakama, which shifts as hands wrench his shihakusho open and beads of sweat moistens the skin of his forehead.

"Don't move," Rukia commands in a snarl that reverberates into almost a growl— But Ichigo knows her, knows her well enough to decipher the myriad of emotions encompassed under that veil of pure hostility, even as he fades in and out of consciousness and there is a raw spectrum of pain blossoming at the pit of his stomach.

Fear, worry, relief and _frustration_ embroiled into one.

Something rises to his throat as he opens his mouth to speak, and the substitute blanches on impulse and coughs blood. His eyes are wide and small coughs still rattle his torso, a saline taste of iron against his tongue, the warm liquid rivuleting down his chin.

"R- Rukia?" Ichigo rasps her name, only there is no surprise, his mind might be disarrayed but her touch, her presence is the most familiar thing he's ever known. She counters response as expected, and frets above him as she wipes the stream of blood off the sides of his mouth with the sleeve of the dark fabric, then tilts his head back gently between her hands, and his vision is pervaded by the most lustrous shade of indigo; it is conversant, like her warmth and the worry creasing her forehead. In the frenetic midst of battle and life tethering dangerously close to death, the orange-haired male begins to wonder when was the last time he had seen her, _truly_ seen her, and he finds himself taken back to a place and time that felt too far away.

Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Rukia.

"Stop talking, you idiot!" she barks, and her voice strains under the burden of worry. He hears her exhale the longest of sighs before drawing a breath again, and it inclines him to immediately obey, resisting the urge to mutter an apology.

Silken strands of midnight hair brush against his skin when she leans in close. Coils of icy reiatsu thins the air as her palms hover over his chest, forming a glowing dome of healing kidou above his abdominal. The broken tissue slowly begins knitting, the sharp needles of pain ebbing away slowly as Rukia worked on healing him. The power thrummed under her fingers and over her skin, which he notes, as he pivots his head and is met with the smooth skin of her thigh, left somewhat bare by her tattered kosode.

"I'm sorry Inoue was unable to heal you, this will have to do for now," the dark-haired shinigami murmurs under breath. It comes to a surprise to Ichigo, who speculates on why on _earth_ she's apologizing, let alone speaking to him.

Her hands shift upwards, prepared to exert more pressure on minor wounds. "Urahara requires extensive care, his injuries are much more fatal than anticipated. The Fourth Squad is managing as best as they can along with Unohana."

Moonlight cuts her features as the raven-haired girl shifts her head, casting a forlorn glance to the side. He follows, and along the way, comes to understand that her concerns also lay elsewhere. The scope of haziness lifts and as though the first time, Ichigo sees the debris and destruction that was left in the wake of the Sternritter, and as his gaze lands upon the motionless form of the Urahara, swathed in bandages and encased in the shimmering cupola of Santen Kesshun— he vows to rebuilt it all.

Ichigo manages to catch a glimpse of Yoruichi nearby, crouched over Urahara's form. Her expression— on herself, seemed so distant from the woman he's always known. It's one he's seen on Rukia, Uryuu, Chad, Renji, himself— struggle. An internal war raging like the thrashing sea.

 _ **\- "We must not shed tears. That is the defeat of the body by the heart. Because, for us, this thing called 'the heart' can become nothing less than proof that one's existence is superfluous." –**_

Rukia seems to have read is mind, and answers the unasked question. "Yoruichi-dono's brother… didn't make it. She's in a state of shock." The shinigami girl releases another sigh before the soft luminance of kidou dissipates, and as her fingers probe against the almost-healed flesh, petite shoulders relax with relief.

Ichigo, meanwhile, accepts the information with stride. There is an innumerable amount of things he wants to say, but his throat is still raw and the familiarity of Rukia — in essence — eases his mind, which is racing with questions and incomplete answers and so the pounding of his head subsides.

The glow of kidou extends from her palms and pleasantly washes over the vertical gash lining his collarbone, and he sighs.

This time, the sensation settles gradually, and Ichigo inhales a much-needed lungful of air before drifting off into unconsciousness.

Peace.

* * *

The days to follow are a blur, and he spends most of them maddeningly inert before being discharged out of Isane Kotetsu's care. He barely encounters Rukia, but doesn't intend to seek her out; as his last impression solidifies the wandering notion that has plagued his thoughts ever since almost two years ago, the last of reiatsu slipped from his grasp and the dark-haired shinigami had become nothing but a cherished memory and the ethereal phantom that haunted his dreams— congealed into the steel of an unwavering resolve.

The memory is far from fleeting, despite being simply a snapshot, scarcely a grain amongst the sands of time— but he remembers it as vividly as the scorching heat of the Soukyoku against his skin. It feels fresh against his mind but hours and hours and hours of recovery and rebuilding separated the past from the present, where he wipes beads of perspiration off his forehead with the sleeve of his shihakusho and tosses the final sheet of ply over to Ikkaku before finding shade under a nearby tree, his gaze fixed upon the burning sun.

It happens exactly two days ago. His chest is still enfolded in bandages and _still_ he struggles to sit up, much to the dismay of Renji, who had managed to stop by in the midst of all the reconstruction.

"Don't be stupid, Ichigo, look at the condition you're in, you won't be helping—" Renji argues, taking a step closer when…

"Let him."

Both heads turn in surprise. The voice is strong and determined and her eyes, her eyes could cut through lead, and Ichigo decides that were that gaze directed his way; he would have done the same as the redheaded shinigami, and flinched. But there is nothing but admiration for the frigid display of authority that not even a fellow lieutenant could defy, and something more than simply pride blooms in his chest. His head hammers just as she exhales slowly, and Ichigo can see the lines of frustration as the sharp edges of her jaw loosens, and her palm squeezes his shoulder.

"…If Isane-fukutaichou thinks he's capable of doing so, and I assume she does, then I don't see a problem in assisting. We need all the manpower we can afford," she says, and hues of lavender flickers toward Renji.

The seventeen year-old stares and in that moment, his heart is lodged in his throat; for Rukia stares back, and her gaze softens considerably. He decides he likes her like this— the frost and steel beforehand is reminiscent of a seasoned soldier, and eyes as soft and expressive as these should never be associated with the hardship of war, yet he marvels at the beauty of her inconsistencies. In appearance, a deceptively frail thing. Purity cloaked under the helm of darkness, both the rainbow and the storm that raged on. Clarity in chaos, the scorching cold; life and death.

She was paradoxical in every single way possible beneath the surface of normality, something no one else had recognized.

No one else but him.

And currently, as the scene replayed in his mind, Ichigo couldn't help the small smile that graced his features.

* * *

Minutes turned into hours, and hours traversed into days. Finally, the day to part had come.

Pillars of pristine white towered high above, but not nearly tall enough to touch the ageless azure stretching boundlessly, wisps of cloud cover gilding lethargically across the open sky. A soft breeze flutters against the sleeves of his hakama as he observes the bizarre group of allies— some unconventional, some anticipated and some completely unlikely. Nevertheless, they interact as one, a symbol of unexpected peace that manages to bring his heart at ease.

He clears his throat and manages to gain the attention of some, most notably his friends. Inoue's eyes brighten as she animatedly waves him over with the greeting of 'Kurosaki-kun!', Chad lifts his head. The rest—most of the fullbring along with Nel and Grimmjow, merely offer languid waves and the occasional smile, in the case of Riruka and Nel.

"Kurosaki," Ishida said, as he pushes his glasses further up the ridge of his nose. His dark-haired friend is flanked by his splitting image, only with polar opposite hair. Ichigo recognizes the man as Ishida's father, who exhibits more of a standoffish demeanor that foreseen.

"Yo," the substitute returns, his mouth forming a lopsided smile, which soon falls after coming to the conclusion that one was missing. One in particular.

"Where's my dad?" This question ends up directed to Ryuuken, who exhales noncommittally and tilts his head toward the Rukon.

"He claims to have business to settle in the Rukongai. Expect him to remain for a while," the stoic man says, and Ichigo's forehead creases with confusion before smoothing over. Sometimes he forgets his father was a shinigami—is a shinigami, and there was an enormous part of his life that remained a mystery.

But, something else registers—a hidden meaning, and Ichigo almost smiles.

He is about to respond to the offered information suddenly a burst of shunpo erupts from the opposite direction, and reiatsu pulses in the slender blur of black that almost escapes the range of sight. The citrus-haired teen reacts impulsively, for she barrels straight at him, and normally someone as diminutive _shouldn't_ have managed to cause him to stumble, but acceleration comes into play and gravity has to be defied— so Ichigo acts quickly, arms catching her slim frame ungracefully. He doesn't fall back, but the sudden pressure does prompt the male to plant his heels firmly against the ground.

Their eyes meet, and time stops.

Everyone else sees it, too.

Rukia eases herself out of his grasp as soon as she can, and her chest heaves under heavy intakes of breaths. In the distance, familiar figures trek forward (at a much slower pace), and he sees Renji, Ikkaku, Byakuya, Ukitake, Kenpachi and Shunsui, simply to name a few.

"I'm apologize—I almost missed you all," the ravenette utters as soon as her breathing becomes stable, and brushes the rebellious streak of ebony away from her eyes as she glances forward.

"It's fine, Kuchiki-san," Ishida says lightly, and Rukia exhales, appearing slightly flustered— an aspect that never quite fit the mould of her traditional demeanour.

Orihime nodded, offering a sunny smile to the hesitant girl. "We would never leave without saying goodbye!" she assures cheerfully, to which Rukia returns with a relieved smile.

The brunette turns his way, and that's when Ichigo sees it; A storm of emotion clouds her eyes, shards of guilt piercing his soul through her ethereal gaze as she swallows, readying to speak, perhaps further the apology, but he never gives her the chance.

"Don't even think about apologizing," he warns sternly, but his eyes are soft as the pad of his forefinger prods lightly against her forehead.

"Ichigo— "

Said boy arched a brow. "I wasn't finished. Look, I get it. I know why you've been holed up with the rest of the Captains all this time," he explained gently, not satisfied until the tensed ridges of her shoulders relaxed. "And what I'm about to ask will sound extremely selfish, but…"

Ichigo looked down upon having found an audience, waiting on bated breath for his following words. Her brows crease, perplexion replacing the earlier guilt and suddenly Ichigo finds himself being transported two years ago at this very spot. He had asked her a question then, and he was about to do it for the second time. And part of him felt very much like the boy he had been back then.

"— Will you come back with me?" Ichigo asks, and suddenly he feels as though the weight of the world is upon him.

Her eyes widen— crystal clear amethyst misting with emotion, and it's there again, _guilt,_ flecked with some foreign desire he's unfamiliar with, and he realizes, this is because that expression has never graced her features before. She looks like delicate porcelain a second away from shattering, and he wants nothing more than to fold her in his arms and force that fragmented expression away.

Rukia wavers, and the substitute already sees the apology in her eyes, more raw and real than it ever was three years ago.

She bites down on her lip, and shifts her gaze. "I'm sorry, Ichigo. I . . . I have a duty. My place is here, in Soul Society."

A smile breaks across his face; and his friends— his allies, their confusion is evident, but Ichigo doesn't know this, and he never will, because his focus never leaves her.

"Then I want to stay here, too," he says, and he says it with such a finality that although some may have thought to rise to objection, they never do.

Ichigo hears Renji exclaim something along the lines of 'What?!' and a deep chuckle resonate from Shunsui, all of whom aren't that far behind, but the sound is as vague as a childhood memory because he gets to bask in the glory of a transition of emotion; her head raises up, the ghost of shock morphing into disbelief, and her pretty mouth opens to speak but closes without a sound.

When the elfin girl does speak, he suppresses the urge to sigh, because like anything with her, it's never easy.

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, I'm sure," Ichigo interrupts, annoyed that her first reaction _wasn't_ something along the lines of joy. A hand reaches forward to course the nape of his neck, averting chestnut hues. "I had some time to think about it and this is really what I want. I want to make Soul Society better than what it used to be. I have a duty here too, y'know."

 _I don't want you to ever have to look at that execution site ever again, and think of that pain._

 _I don't want you to ever have to accept a fate that involves death again._

 _I don't want you to ever have to feel the loneliness of being a prisoner again._

 _My duty is to you. My life is to you._

 _I belong here._

 _With you._

He inhales deeply before facing his friends, fully prepared to be met with aversion.

"Listen, min'na. I know all of you weren't really expecting—"

"Oh, we suspected," Ishida interrupts, his glasses glinting under the light of the sun. "Contrary to what you may think, Kurosaki, you're quite transparent."

A vein throbs at Ichigo's temple.

"And I ain't your friend," Grimmjow decides to add as well, and his expression suggested he rejected the notion altogether. "I'm just hitchin' a ride, and you turn this in a cryfest. I didn't know you were so sappy, I should've known you had a thing for—"

"Are any of you gonna' let me finish?!" Ichigo shouts, and everyone could practically see the steam rising from his shoulders. Rukia rolls her eyes and covertly slips a hand under his elbow; a comforting gesture, until. . .

"Geez, don't get your panties in a bunch—"

"Okay, so maybe I'm not that subtle," the substitute presses on, choosing to ignore the Arrancar's jabs at his masculinity. His shoulders roll back in a swift motion, and his gaze sets upon the three people who had become so important to him over time.

"Saying goodbye feels weird, and well, I never really liked that word anyway. So I'm not gonna' say it, because we'll definitely see each other again," he says, with conviction he almost didn't have moments ago, and that bittersweet emotion swells in his chest.

It felt like goodbye.

He inhales deep, and turns to Ishida. "Don't go challenging any other poor substitute shinigami out there. Seriously, we had enough of a scare the first time," The orangette's eyes rotate in annoyance, and Ishida glares.

His hand lands upon the Quincy's shoulders, and when he looks at him next, he doesn't see the pretentious Quinct that despised Shinigami three years ago, but someone he would consider a friend. No. A brother. They were different, a contradiction to each other in every way possible, but somehow, out of all three of his friends, he was the closest thing to a kindred soul Ichigo had ever encountered.

"Protect Karakura Town," he states with utter seriousness, and the burden against his chest lifts as Ishida's hand clasps his opposite shoulder.

Ishida nods in understanding, and Ichigo almost sees his resolve wavering. "I will."

"The both of you too," the tangerine-haired teen says, turning as his arm dropped. "Protect Karakura Town. And I'm always a Senkaimon away," he jokes, but tears are welling in Inoue's eyes already and there's a flicker of emotion beneath the fringe of Chad's curls that he can't miss—

"We'll miss you, Kurosaki-kun!" Inoue bursts out, and emotion pours from her lips and threatens to spill from the peripheral of her lashes. Ichigo doesn't miss Uryuu's concerned gaze, even concealed by the sheen of his lenses.

"Inoue, this isn't goodbye," Ichigo affirms, and takes her by the shoulders. He is surprisingly patient with the emotional girl, and allows his lips to part into a rare smile.

"I'm gonna focus on getting stronger, and we'll see each other all the time," he promises, and she seems to calm, and offers a watery smile. "You should probably go say goodbye to Rukia, too," the substitute prompts, nudging his ginger-haired friend in the direction of Rukia as he releases her, who observes the scene with the fondest of smiles.

Inoue nods and sets her sight on the petite woman, a smile adorning her features as the shinigami neared. "Kuchiki-san!"

Ichigo takes this opportunity to seek out Chad, and he isn't sure where to begin. Out of everyone, even Rukia, Chad is the one he has known the longest, a friendship forged under the strangest of circumstances.

"I always knew you'd end up staying here."

The quiet, baritone voice of his friend jars him out of his reverie, and surprise takes his features by storm. However, he recovers quickly, allowing a hand to course the nape of his neck.

"Yeah," is all Ichigo says—at first. His gaze flecks golden under the light of the sun as he glances up. "I think I need to fix things here. When we got here, things were corrupted from the start. And I think I owe it to everyone to finish what I started."

Chad seems to accept this answer, for most part.

"And… I think I've always known, deep down, even when I thought I was just a kid who could see ghosts… something was missing," Ichigo divulging, a wry smile crossing his features. "Here, it doesn't feel that way."

"You belong here," his friend finishes for him, and Ichigo feels ten times lighter.

"….and I'll visit all the time, so we can work on new recipes, like wasabi, chocolate and fish paste!" The horrifying combination of Inoue's causes both males to grin, and much to Ichigo's further amusement, was Rukia's pure dread.

A sweatdrop rolled down her temple, and he can just _see_ the wheels in her head spinning. "Er, Inoue, that's really not necessary—"

"But I insist!" Orihime counters brightly, in a way that almost made Rukia resign to her fate.

However, it was Ishida to come to her rescue, sliding himself in the conversation with ease.

"As we're on the subject, I was thinking of experimenting on kimonos, and I was wondering if you'd like one custom-made, Kuchiki-san."

"But, Ishida-kun, we weren't talking about fashion—"

"I'd love one, Ishida," Rukia interjected quickly, plastering on a mega-watt smile. Though, there was unspoken thanks in her eyes.

"Che', what a bunch of losers," Grimmjow scoffs, and Ichigo narrows his eyes irately.

"What're you still doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you have gone back to Hueco Mundo days ago?"

"We're returning to the human world with them," Nel interjects softly, jerking her chin toward the Fullbring group. Yukio waves over, and Ichigo returns the gesture.

The blue-haired arrancar's hands slip into the pockets of his hakama, and he offers a short shrug. "Just hitchin' a ride. Might stay for a while and pay back a favour or two to that Urahara guy until he gets better."

Grimmjow's gaze shifted toward the small group of friends— a cynosure amongst the cool and collected as their animated discussion proceeded, teal hues settling upon Ichigo.

"Well, we better get going. Your speech was half-assed, so go say goodbye to your friends. See ya, Kurosaki," the former Espada states gruffly, already turning away.

"Goodbye, Ichigo." Nel's melodic voice drifts, as the pair retreats toward the Senkaimon Gates.

"Bye," Ichigo says hesitantly, somehow certain that this wouldn't be the last time he saw any of them. The beaming flash of light as the group ascends almost catches onto the back of his hakama as he hurries towards his friends.

A few feet away, Ukitake's gaze falls upon Renji.

"Abarai-kun, you aren't going to say goodbye?" the long-haired taichou inquires, brows furrowing in concern.

The redhead chuckles, and Shunsui shares a look with Byakuya that borders upon bemusement.

"Nah, this is Ichigo and Rukia's moment with their friends, I don't think anyone should interfere," the vice-captain replies wisely, lips slanting into a small grin. "Besides, it's not like I won't be seeing those guys anytime soon."

Ukitake arches a brow in Shunsui's direction, who offers a nervous grin and tips his hat.

"What? Since Kurosaki-san is staying, Abarai-kun being away for a few weeks won't be such a loss~," the soutaichou hummed, eyes glinting under the safety of his strawhat. "It's not like he does his paperwork on time anyways~."

Though the feat appeared impossible, Renji's brows skyrocketed and a vein throbbed at his temple. "Hey!"

"And this time he won't be a freeloader," murmurs Toshiro, much to the dismay of the sixth squad's lieutenant.

A whipping breeze picks up, and sweeps leaves upon leaves toward the direction of the Senkaimon Gates. The five friends at the base barely notice, even as Orihime's auburn hair flares with the wind and air tunnels into the sleeves of Rukia's kosode.

"Let's make an oath," Rukia says suddenly, and extends her hand, palm down. Ichigo, though sceptical, allowed his larger palm to over hers. Chad follows, then Orihime, and finally, Uryuu.

The petite shinigami draws in a breath, and focuses only on the warmth on her skin and the blend of their energy; each bearing their own brand of individuality.

"Yesterday— though not literally," Her voice is a whisper of silver, soft lips curving into a smile. "We won not only the battles, but the war. So today, we wish for happiness, and cherish the _hopefully_ peaceful days ahead of us. Though today we may be separated, our hearts will remain forever connected. So, this isn't goodbye."

She is the first to open her eyes, and the rest follow suit. With hesitance, Uryuu retracts his hand, then Orihime, and Chad.

"That was beautifully said, Kuchiki-san," Uryuu compliments, and Inoue nods enthusiastically.

"I agree," the orange-haired girl says thickly, already on the verge of tears again.

Neither notice that Ichigo has yet to pull his hand away, and they only do when Rukia's slender arm jerks back, her cheeks tinted with colour. The substitute hastily does the same, and an uncomfortable silence stretches on, as it is uncertain how one _should_ move on after an awkward incident like this.

However, mercy seems to be on their side, for Ishida's handbag started wriggling around (Ichigo _seriously_ didn't want to know why he still had that), and in a state of panic, the Quincy quickly removes it and flings it away. The rattle of the zipper soon reveals Kon, who pants and glares at the dark-haired male.

"You! You kidnapped me!" The modsoul accuses, his plush body squeaking with every step towards the group.

"Uryuu, what is that thing?" Ryuuken asks, and everyone winces. They had forgotten he was still there.

"That's Kon," Ichigo grumbles, squinting down at his former roommate slash mod-soul. "Did you really kidnap him, Ishida?"

"I thought he would make an excellent test subject," is all Ishida says, adjusting the rim of his glasses nonchalantly.

It was no shock to anyone (especially Ichigo and Rukia, who were well-versed concerning his antics more than anyone else) when Kon latched himself to Ichigo's leg and sobbed into the fabric of his shihakusho.

"Ichigo! Don't let them do this to me! I don't—I don't wanna' go back —"

With a deep sigh, the orangette plucks the plush clinging to him and dangles him at eye level, unable to discern whether those were crocodile tears.

"Well, it's not like I'm gonna' need a mod soul anyways, since I'm staying here," Ichigo grouses, and turns his face away as his scowl deepens. Kon stops squirming, legitimately surprised.

Or confused.

"Uh, does that mean yes?"

"Yeah, I'm not heartless like Ishida," The orange-haired male answers, earning a huff from said Quincy. Kon's beady little tears well with tears as Ichigo sets him on Rukia's shoulder, who sends him a death glare.

It doesn't take long for the almost-touching moment to be ruined.

"Nee-san!" the teddy bear tries to wrap his fuzzy little arms around her neck. It is with great precision that the brunette manages to bring her fist down upon his head.

"Try anything and I will personally deliver you to the twelfth division," she threatens, and the mod-soul is smart enough to obey.

Ishida clears his throat, and the small interaction amongst the trio swiftly falls apart, their attention fixating upon him.

"We should probably get going," he starts, a rare smile gracing his features. "See you, Kurosaki, Kuchiki-san." His gaze shifts to the silent (for most part) of shinigami Captains and Lieutenants. "Min'na."

"Bye Kurosaki-kun, Kuchiki-san," Inoue inputs brightly, and offers a small wave to the rest.

"See you later," is all Chad says.

Ryuuken says nothing, but Ichigo swears he saw him give a small nod.

"See you," Ichigo and Rukia return the gesture in kind as they step back to join their comrades as their friends ascend the Senkaimon. They wave toward the parting group, and so does a few amongst their members—Renji, Ikakku, Ukitake, and Shunsui.

"You know, now that Kurosaki-san is staying, we should offer him a permanent position. Perhaps even the Thirteenth," Shunsui mused, and Byakuya stiffened.

The man's grin remained conveniently concealed by the shadow of his hat, entertained as prickles of reiatsu emanated freely from the sixth division captain. Conversely, all traces of emotion drained from the elder's visage as his eyes followed the thin tendrils of malignance, lingering on a leftward cliff in the distance. A shadowed figure contrasted the benign, luminous weather, swathed in thick strappings of black.

Today brought both union and a bittersweet farewell, to some, as the beaming flash of light ascended heavenwards, the wind sweeping against the dark material of their apparel.

Ichigo's hand slipped around Rukia's smaller one, lacing their fingers as one. Amethyst irises flickered his way, and amidst the dark tresses fluttering around her gentle visage, she smiled at him, and squeezed back, as Kon desperately clung to her shoulder.

What tomorrow had in store, however, didn't matter after all.

 _But when you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?_

 ** _fin._**

* * *

 ** _A.N:_ **_Although this was simply meant to be an IchiRuki oneshot, I somehow managed to create a satisfying enough fix-it fic. Please consider that due to the nature I couldn't address everything that was wrong with the ending (such as Mashiro, Tier, etc) but there's hope I may write a second installment utilizing a short timeskip that sheds light on everything left off by the manga as well as the development of Ichigo and Rukia's relationship from here._

 _Music to listen to: **Adventure Club & Krewella - Rise and Fall, Trading Yesterday - She Is The Sunlight, Bastille - Pompeii (Audien Remix)**_

 _If you haven't tried it already, I have a Kuroshitsuji IchiRuki AU in the works. If you have, I'll be dropping a new chapter sometime this week or so. In the meantime, please read and review!_


End file.
